


Ready Room

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you want romance, you're barking up the wrong tree."  "Always seem to be."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready Room

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: end of S3, post-"The Son Also Rises" but not necessarily canon-compatible  
> A/N: Patience is a virtue. For the "Easy Like Sunday Afternoon Challenge". Thanks to sci_fi_shipper for cheerleading. Is it bad that I wrote most of this in a BSG panel at D*C?  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Lee pokes his head into the ready room. Anders is in there, shooting the shit, playing an idle hand of triad with Racetrack and Skulls and Hot Dog and Seelix. He's getting on with living, which makes Lee grit his teeth a moment. Anders looks good in those tanks, though. Lee catches his eye, jerks his head. Anders stretches and takes another hand of cards. He folds them almost without looking at them and makes his excuses. Racetrack rolls her eyes and says something to him, and he shrugs and laughs. Lee watches Anders' muscles move under his somehow-still-tanned skin, feeling the hunger starting in his belly. When he glances back at the table, he sees Seelix watching Anders the same way. She'll just have to wait. Lee's never been patient.

Anders saunters out the hatch and ducks his head. "What's up, Major?"

"I'm not military anymore," Lee snaps.

"Okay, then I guess I'll say what's up, Lee?" Anders drawls in a slow sexy voice.

"Well, I didn't come looking for wining and dining," Lee says. "I want you to frak me."

"There's no romance left," Anders teases him. "Good thing I had a lot of ambrosia already."

"If you want romance, you're barking up the wrong tree," Lee says.

"Always seem to be," Anders says.

There's a noise in the ready room and Lee grabs a fistful of Anders' tanks and drags him away. There are plenty of hidey-holes on Galactica and by now, Lee knows them all – it's been a long several years on the ship. Lee takes a left turn, goes down a corridor, and ducks into a storage room. Before he can get the hatch closed, Anders has him pinned to the wall, lips against Lee's throat. Anders isn't gentle and Lee likes that. He doesn't deserve gentleness, not after he frakked around with Anders' wife (the thought still sends a hot pang through him – Kara belonged to nobody, but Kara belonged to _him_ after all they'd been through). Besides that, Lee's been in control too long, doing what he never really wanted to do in the first place – he craves the lack of responsibility he has when Anders is in charge, doing what he wants to Lee's body, making Lee do what Anders wants him to do but making him wait to be told.

"On your knees, Adama," Anders says roughly, shoving at Lee's shoulder. Lee drops, unbuckling Anders' fatigues, feeling himself start to get hard as Anders commands him. It's still strange to see Anders in the uniform, but at least Lee knows the clothes intimately, would be able to strip Anders out of them in his sleep. Anders is hard already and Lee just curls his fingers around Anders' cock and takes him into his mouth, all the way in, so that the head of Anders' cock is bumping the back of his throat. Anders knots his long fingers in Lee's hair and Lee is glad now he hasn't cut his hair. He teases his tongue along the bottom of Anders' cock, closing his eyes so he can savor the sensations: the rub of his tongue against smooth skin, the sharp tug of Anders' fingers, the twitching of the muscles in the back of Anders' thigh as Lee steadies himself against Anders' strong legs. He lets just the edges of his teeth scrape gently against Anders' cock and Anders yanks briefly at his hair in warning, but groans so deep Lee can feel the vibrations through his teeth. Lee smiles as best he can with his mouth full.

"Watch it, Adama," Anders warns.

Lee leans back for a moment, letting Anders' cock slip out of his mouth but keeping a fist wrapped around it. "Yes, sir, sorry, sir, you know you love it, sir."

"Got a mouth on you, Adama," Anders says low and quiet. "No wonder you're the golden boy."

Lee smirks and swallows Anders back down. He cups Anders' balls in one hand, rolling them lazily over his fingers. Anders thrusts into Lee's mouth like he can't help it, making little grunting noises that shoot all the way down Lee's spine to his balls. Lee can taste the salt on Anders' cock and he wants more – his own cock is stiff and aching. He opens his throat, sucking Anders in deeper. Anders groans out loud, swearing under his breath, and pulls at Lee's hair until Lee has to let go. Anders hauls him up and pushes Lee onto his back on one of the crates, stripping off Lee's trousers and yanking them over his shoes and then pulling off the shoes almost as an afterthought. It's cold in the room and Lee's thighs prickle into goosebumps of chill and anticipation.

Thank the gods they use the same lube to keep the rubber seals of their suits soft as they do to keep their skin from cracking in the dry air of the ship. Anders makes an impatient noise kicking off his fatigues and snags a jar off the shelf, scooping a dollop of the jelly out and smoothing it over his cock. He strips off his tanks with greasy fingers and Lee licks his lips involuntarily at the sight of Anders' broad chest.

"Do it," Lee demands.

"I don't take orders from you," Anders tells him. "You can godsdamn wait." He pushes Lee's knees apart and just stands there, leaning close, the head of his cock rubbing up and down the back of Lee's thigh. "Tell me how much you want it."

"You know I godsdamn do," Lee snaps, and then groans as Anders shifts closer, making Lee's breath catch in anticipation. He hasn't frakked a lot of men, but then, he hasn't frakked that many women – he's selective in general. But the way Anders takes him over is incredible. Maybe it's the athlete background, but Anders uses Lee's body, shoves him around until Lee's right where Anders wants him, touches Lee like he's ready to get them both to the goal and won't take less than a full commitment, 110% or whatever those sports people say.

"I need you to frak me," Lee pants, about to take matters into his own hands if Anders doesn't make a move. "Gods, Anders, just do it."

Anders holds out another minute to let Lee know who's in charge of the situation and then slides in, making Lee writhe on the crate as his body adjusts. "Oh, gods," he grits out. It feels good, incredibly good. Anders manhandles him, firm but not rough, filling him up, telling Lee's body exactly what he wants from it. Lee groans, hooking his knee around Anders' ass as Anders thrusts, trying to pull him closer. Anders grunts disapprovingly and pulls out, leaving Lee empty, and wipes his cock on Lee's tanks. He slides his cock against Lee's, holding it firmly, still slick enough that it's comfortable. He leans over Lee until they're half-humping, and it may be something teenagers do, but the friction is so exquisite that Lee can't help his hips rising. They rub against each other, their cocks pinned between their bodies, shoving and panting and clutching at each other. They kiss, but it's more like biting: Lee's going to have marks and he doesn't give a frak. He just digs his fingers deeper into Anders' back, his teeth gritted in his urgency.

"Oh gods, yes," he says, his back arching as Anders bears down hard and comes all over Lee's belly. Lee almost whines as he pushes up against Anders' hips, wanting his own release, reveling in the sensations of heat and wet and rough and smooth. Anders leans down and smothers Lee's mouth with his own, and the sure flick of his tongue against Lee's tips Lee over the edge. His body spasms and he comes hard, their pressed-together skin even stickier. Anders leans over Lee's shoulder, his chin digging into Lee's traps, and breathes heavily for a moment, then levers himself up and wipes himself down.

"When is your down shift?" Lee asks.

"Why do we do this?" Anders says half over his shoulder, not quite turning his head.

"I want it," Lee says. "I want you to frak me."

"Tell me you miss her," Anders orders. "Tell me you regret it."

Lee isn't sure what Anders is asking about: the marriage, the affairs, Zak, the storm, the way Dee turns her back every time she sees him, these fairly sordid encounters in back corridors. "Every godsdamn minute," Lee says finally, and Anders just nods and drags his fatigues back on.


End file.
